


how easily we forget (those dark corners of our heart)

by mystarsandmyocean



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Mentions of Non-Consensual Drug Use, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystarsandmyocean/pseuds/mystarsandmyocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had forgotten, these last few months, had let himself forget.  </p>
<p>Tonight, he remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how easily we forget (those dark corners of our heart)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before we got the S3 Comic-Con trailer, and as such, may not be entirely compliant with the information previewed there. All Season 3 speculation here.

It is easier than he remembers.

The right bones are very fragile - he learned that, the first time, when a kick from Fyers snapped a rib in two, he's forgotten that, this past year, the need to clench and lock every muscle so the rage doesn't bleed through each punch and kick.

(A fractured radius, a clean break through the ulna. It will be weeks before Felicity types properly again.)

He reaches for his quiver, digs a matching arrow through Vertigo's other shoulder.

The man whimpers but doesn't shift. Pain is an efficient teacher - another lesson Oliver learned, on the island, in Hong Kong; with his father, Shado, Slade, _Felicity_. This man - this monster - he _deserves_ pain: Oliver breaks each and every one of his fingers, stretches the bones back until they snap against his palm. 

He remembers the screams lasting longer.  His screams did.

(Felicity didn't scream. Just gasped, the drug coursing through her bloodstream, manifesting first as a giddy high, then palpitations, followed by dizziness, and then - )

His bow lays where he left it, discarded just within reach. He presses the bowstring into Vertigo's throat, the wire parting the skin, a Red Sea spilling forth. 

Vertigo sputters for air; the screams drop into moans, then gasps. He doesn't - _can't_ \- hear him anymore.

(She collapsed when the pain kicked in. Right into his arms. His fingers shook, searching, praying, begging for a pulse; he didn't scream, not aloud.  Sound alerts predators, and right then, he was prey.  

He ran to the medbay, cradled her down the stairs.  Yelled for Dig, for Roy, for the heart monitor, the crash cart, his herbs,  _anything_.

She arched over the med table, there but not, screaming, _screaming_ - )

Blood, warm and wet, sprays his face; his bowstring has cut through the arteries; he does not relieve the pressure.  

Three.

Two.

One.

("Oh," Felicity had gasped, "oh, you didn't mean dinner like friends getting dinner, you meant dinner like a  _date_ , I did not think this was a date _at all_ \- not that I wouldn't want go on a date - I just - ugh, let me start over, three, two, one...")

The gasps fade.   

Hands shaking, he drops the bow, pushing away, tripping over the arrows he had stabbed through Vertigo's legs.  The need that drove him here drains away; he feels only numbness now.

He has not killed -  _murdered_  - a man since the Count.  He needed three arrows then.

His thumb tracing the edge of his forefinger, he stares at the monster - the man - pinned to the ground; Vertigo's empty eyes stare back.

He had forgotten, these last few months, had _let himself_ forget.  But tonight, Vertigo's body has been maimed and tortured, his hands are  stained by blood, and Felicity's screams will not stop ringing in his ears.  

Tonight, he remembers.  For Oliver Queen, killing comes easy.  


End file.
